The Insanity of Reason
by gothiktenkasen
Summary: Of all the shops in Gotham, he had to choose mine. JokerOC
1. Client

Disclaimer: Yeah, I wish.

Rating: M for Mature

Content: Violence, language, sexuality and disturbing situations.

Summary: Of all the shops in Gotham, he had to choose mine. JokerOC

A/N: ACH! Thanks to Yuki Hikari, I went back and fixed everything. This takes place shortly _after_ the first bank robbery we witness in the opening scenes.

--

The Insanity of Reason

--

Chapter 1: Client

--

I grasped the broom in my small hands. Business was slow, unsurprising as usual. I swept the threads and tiny scraps of fabric into a small, colorful pile before bending down and scooping them into the hand held dustpan. I sighed, dumping them into the garbage. Mr. Burns was at home, caring for his ailing wife, as he so often did now, leaving me alone in the tailor shop. It was rare, to see him there. I opened shop at eight a.m. sharp, Monday through Saturday, and closed around six in the evening. It wasn't a bad job; the pay was decent enough for me to live off of, but not enough to go back to med school. How ashamed I was, when I had to call my parents back in Korea to tell them that I couldn't afford my schooling anymore.

But I digress.

Autumn was close and the leaves in the park were just beginning to turn color. The summer heat slipped away quickly and the dark of night came sooner with each passing evening. I had a healthy dose of paranoia, as every single woman who led a city life would. Of course, I wasn't afraid to venture down from my apartment and next door to the convenience store for milk at two in the morning but I certainly didn't wander down any janky alleyways either. The radio drawled on in the background, announcing that the Gotham City Symphony would be playing in a week's time in Wayne Hall. I rolled my eyes. Half the things in Gotham had "Wayne" tattooed on their ass. At least the tailor shop wasn't called _Wayne Tailor_. I almost snickered; it sounded like a bad Western.

I peered up at the clock. It was getting close to six as the minute hand ticked. I rolled my head, cracking the growing tension that rested between my shoulder blades. I set the broom aside and meandered to the windows. I used a hooked pole to pull down the metal curtains Mr. Burns had invested in. Moving on to the next window, I cranked the steel down and leaned the pole against the adjacent wall for the next morning. I walked behind the counter and fished around for my purse. Now, I don't particularly _like_ purses, as they tend to attract unwanted attention when I'm walking. Quite frankly, I prefer having my wallet in my pocket and my keys in hand, in case I need to punch some loony in the face. I've only had to do that once and the end results weren't that pretty.

The door opened and the welcome bell tinkled in an obscenely merry way. Judging by the weighted footsteps on the tile, I judged that a man had just walked in. I sighed,

"I'm sorry, sir. We're just about to close for the night."

"That's, ah, too bad. See, I, ah, had a job for you, girly." My ears perked. A job? I mentally weighed my options: sit around at home watching bad re-runs, _or_ sit around at home and make some money? The prospect of some cash sounded good, especially since Bert's deadline was coming up. I straightened, smoothing some wrinkles on the stomach of my shirt.

"What can I do for you, sir?" My eyes rose to his face and I suppressed a gasp. A lump grew in my throat, but I remained still. Had it not been for the pearly, jagged mutilation on either side of his mouth, he could have been handsome. They marred his olive skin and for a moment, I couldn't breathe.

"I have some designs, _see_?" He tossed a folder to me, brown eyes glittering with some fierce inferno held behind weak walls. "I want it done by the end of the wee-kuh." I licked my lips nervously. It was Tuesday. I had until Sunday to make whatever this man wanted me to make. Sunday was Bert's collection day.

"I'll- I'll need a little money to start." I tried swallowing my anxiety and failed outrageously. Hate and madness seemed to roll off the man in unrelenting waves. "I have to buy the fabric first…" He grinned and the scars on his face stretched and twitched. I suppressed a shudder. He reached into the back pocket of his ratty, greasy jeans and pulled out a wad of cash.

"I'll be waiting here Sunday morning. Be _done_." With a strange chuckle, the man left me alone once more in the shop.

When I got home an hour later, I plopped on the couch, having removed my shoes at the doorway. I flipped open the folder. They were pictures of three-piece suits and trench coats, all from different magazines and two pieces of white paper with the outline of a hand colored purple. However, the faces were scrawled over in white and uneven coloring covered different articles of clothing. I inspected each image. In one photograph, a gentleman's coat had been tainted purple, with what I assumed to be, permanent sharpie. This manner of imaging continued, each picture outlining a separate piece. The colors were, well, bizarre. Frowning, I leafed through the cash and was surprised to find four hundred and seventy two dollars. I lightly chewed on the inside of my lower lip and decided that it was in my best interest _not_ to question the source of the money.

--

I rose with the sun and groggily made my way over to my tiny bathroom, discarding my clothes as I hobbled along. I fumbled with the cold faucet knobs, cursing my inability to peacefully sleep past sunrise. I don't quite remember when the shitty habit started; it might've been when Rick used to spend the night at my apartment.

I turned the water on as hot as I could bear it and let the liquid bullets pound into my back. Water rolled over my cheeks and dripped off my nose. Steam rose from my toes and after rinsing the conditioner from my black hair, I shut off the shower and blindly groped for one of my beige towels. Drying off and running a wide toothed comb through my wet hair, I walked back to my room naked, ruffling my head with the towel in the attempt to get rid of the moisture. I flung open my drawers, digging around for the proper underwear and bra. I dropped the towel on the ground and absently picked up the deodorant on top of the chest of drawers. When I finished rubbing the falsely scented white stick on my armpits, I pushed the cap back on and tossed it on the bed. Wild freesia my ass.

I slipped on a pair of jeans and a three-quarter sleeve, black, loose neck turtleneck. I slid my mirror closet door shut and stared at my reflection for a few moments. I ran my fingers through the wet tangles of my hair one more time before something caught my eye. I straightened, tensing. I blinked and whatever I thought I had seen on my fire escape disappeared. I turned around to stare at the window. A few weeks ago, my blinds had broken and I kept putting off purchasing the replacements.

I made a mental note to myself to get blinds when I went fabric shopping.

Tucking the folder under my arm and slinging my purse over my shoulder, I locked my apartment door and headed down the stairs. I didn't live that far up in the complex, only the second floor and walking down two flights of stairs would help me more than hurt me. Besides, my thick thighs needed the exercise. I hailed a taxi and slid inside, naming my destination. The drive was relatively quiet and I spent my time leafing through the pictures again, mulling over different fabrics in my brain. I had until Sunday, _Sunday_, to sew a three piece suit, leather gloves and a lined, purple trench coat. God help me.

After paying the cabbie, sifting through the warehouse of fabric and arguing down the prices in Korean to the little old man who owned the place, I left with a grin, my arms weighed down with the bags of silk and cotton. I flagged another cab and headed off to work; it was a little past eight when I arrived. Not that it was a big deal or anything. Business was typically slow. I hastily opened shop and dug through the bins of patterns to find what I was looking for. I paused, my hand hovering over the fabric scissors. I couldn't cut the patterns without the man's measurements. God damn it. I bit my lip, a nervous habit my father always admonished me for.

Reaching for the folder, I paused, a shiver sliding up my spine like a snake. I turned my head and looked out the glass door of the shop. Someone stood across the street. I squinted, trying to get a better look at the person. They turned and walked away. I swallowed and tried to shake off the eeriness that settled in the pit of my stomach. Opening the folder, I shifted the papers around and was relieved to find some measurements scrawled on the inner back flap of the folder. I cut the appropriate patterns and spread them out on the long cutting table.

I worked until three before setting the half finished collared shirt down. I had cut out the pieces for the pants and finished the vest leaving the buttons off to hand stitch at home. I had been lucky to find the bizarre shade of green in the silk aisle of the fabric warehouse. It was the closest match I could find to my client's specifications. The shirt itself was patterned, as he requested. I discovered a decorative hexagon cloth of a color I couldn't quite place. It was a mix of blue and purple with iridescent thread. I suspected the clothes were for a costume and so I had tried my best to find interesting fabric. I eyed the silk I purchased for the tie. It held a chaotic clash of greens, with an obscuring, indefinable pattern, something I hoped the client would appreciate.

I didn't even know the client's _name_. I pursed my lips. It felt a bit awkward, referring to the man as "the client" or, even more creatively, "the man". I scoffed. Rolling my shoulders and hearing the successful crack of tension disappearing, I stood and stretched up. I sighed and dug around for the phone. I dialed Mr. Burns' cell phone and cradled the phone in my neck, leaving my hands free to dig through the mini-fridge. He picked up on the fourth ring.

"Hello?" He sounded brighter than normal.

"Hi, Mr. Burns, it's Kimberly."

"Hi, Kimberly. How are things at the shop?"

"Oh, well, I'm just calling to let you know that we got a client right before I closed yesterday."

"Really? That's good to hear." I straightened, leftover rice and a little jar of kimchi in hand.

"How's your wife doing?" I lightly kicked the door shut and it closed with a suctioned pop.

"Better. She's doing better."

"That's good." The conversation was rather empty, with semi-false pleasantries. I liked Mr. Burns and all, but I felt, at times, that the courtesy he offered me was a little fictitious. When I hung up the phone, I mixed a little more kimchi into my rice, stirring it around with the plastic spoon. The store bought kimchi was never as good as my mom's. The phone rang, a ridiculously annoying, electronic version of one of Beethoven's lesser-known symphonies. Irritated, I answered.

"This is Burns' Tailoring." The other end was oddly quiet. I listened intently, "Hello?" I picked up the sound of light, controlled breathing. "Hello?" I rolled my eyes and hung up, frustrated. It wasn't the first time it had happened and I was sure it wouldn't be the last.

--

I took the shirt and the vest home with me when I left the shop around nine thirty. I pulled the steel curtains down and locked the door, shivering as the cool air seeped through my turtleneck. It was dark with only the street lamps lighting the sidewalk as I made my way to a busier part of Gotham. I gripped my keys, the brown paper bag with the clothes and my purse slung over my shoulder. I clenched and unclenched my free hand. A second set of footsteps fell into my earshot. I turned my head slightly, spying a man of average height. He passed under a lamppost and I saw a gun glint in the light. My heart almost stopped. I walked a little faster. His pace increased. I broke into a run, my feet slapping the pavement like a death drum.

"Get back here!" I heard him shout. He fired and I _felt_ the bullet whizz past my left shoulder. "I said-" Something cut him off and he screamed. I stopped and looked back to see his kicking feet as he was dragged into an alley. I heard him struggling, pleading with someone. Menacing, inane laughter answered him and I heard a noise I had grown accustomed to in med school; a blade being pulled across taut flesh. I ran as fast as I could to the livelier part of Gotham.

I screamed for a taxi, jumping into the first one that pulled over. He began to drive and I felt my heart slamming into my ribcage. My breathing was spastic and erratic, my head spinning. The cabbie glanced at me from his rearview mirror.

"You alright, sweetheart?" He dropped his 'r's; a Boston man. I nodded,

"Just- just take me to twenty-three fifty on the corner of Irving and Forty-Seventh." He merely nodded and we drove in silence. Had it been one of Bert's men? What would happen to me if it were? Would his death be added to my debt? The driver barely stopped the car in front of my apartment when I opened my purse. I tossed him a little extra, it didn't matter. I didn't care. I just wanted to curl up on my couch. I flung the lobby doors open and raced up the stairs, slamming my door shut. I bolted it, collapsing against the thick wood and sucking in air as quickly as I could. My lungs burned a little and my legs quaked. I had run like that since high school P.E. Still a little shaky, I kicked my shoes off and sat on my couch. As I pulled out the shirt and vest to sew on their respective buttons, I remembered that I had failed to purchase any blinds.

--

I apologize if this chapter is rather short, they'll get longer.

Reviews are Love,

The Author.


	2. Spider Webs

Disclaimer: Does it look like the Joker is serving me fresh cookies in a frilly pink apron? _Only_ an apron?

A/N: I was reading some more Batman fanfics and it seems like "med student" is a very popular so I went back added a few details to make it more interesting. Also, school started for me and so updates might take a little while, but I hope you remain patient with me!

A/N: Wow! I didn't realize the response would be so great! Thanks guys!

Yuki Hikari: THANK YOU!

--

_Sorry I'm not home right now  
I'm walking into spider webs  
So leave a message and  
I'll call you back  
A likely story, leave a  
Message and I'll call you back  
And it's all your fault  
I screen my phone calls_

- Spider Webs by No Doubt

--

The Insanity of Reason

--

Chapter 2: Spider Webs

--

Saturday night rolled around rather quickly and I had still failed to purchase any blinds for my curtain. The radio bubbled on about a heist that was pulled off in downtown Gotham. No arrests had been made and, quite frankly, I wasn't surprised. I rubbed my eyes before cracking my back. I winced. I was hand stitching the purple leather gloves by lamplight and staying hunched over cramped my back. I ached for my mom's hot mud and jade pack but sadly, she had taken it with her when she went back to Korea with my dad and older brother. I flexed my fingers, hearing the crackle of tension disappear. Sighing, I picked up my work to continue. The telephone began to ring. I froze.

Lately, I'd been getting these creepy phone calls. Sometimes, I could hear someone breathing on the end, but most of the time, it was silent. I had knocked it up to some pranksters. But then the calls had become more frequent and I found myself hesitating to answer. The ringing persisted. Trying to squash my nerves, I picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" My voice sounded hoarser than I would have liked.

"Kim?" Relief swamped my system like a flood in the desert. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I rubbed my temple with my free hand. "Yeah, I'm fine. What's up, Sara?"

"Oh, not much. I was actually wondering if you wanted to go out next Friday. There's a new club that's opened up and I wanted to go check it out."

"And of course, you can't go alone." I teased, feeling a little easier about talking to Sara. She and I had been friends for a few years; we met at a bookstore. She was purchasing books on gardening while I was picking up a special order I had put in for some medical reports. We had hit it off quite nicely while waiting in line for a good half hour.

"Come _on_, Kim. Please?" I could practically imagine her big, blue, puppy dog eyes.

"Fine." I grumbled good-naturedly. "I'll go." She squealed and I held the phone away from my ear, wincing. We chatted a little longer before she had to get off. Promising to call her in a few days, I hung up. Picking up the gloves, I adjusted my light, twisting it to get a better angle. The phone rang again. I pursed my lips and answered. "Sarah, I said I would go, didn't I?"

Silence greeted me. I swallowed.

"Hello?" The breathing was light on the other end, controlled and even. I licked my lips and hung up the phone. I shuddered, allowing the shiver to trickle down my body. I went back to work.

--

I rose with the dawn, showered and poured myself a glass of orange juice. I slipped on a pair of charcoal skinny jeans and a sweater that hung off one shoulder. I held my toast between my teeth as I tugged my wide belt around my natural waistline. Tossing my purse over my shoulder, I pulled my hair into a loose knitted hat. I tucked the gloves into bag as I slid into my flats. I exhaled noisily, accompanying the jangle of my keys as I locked my door. I descended the stairs. There was a constant draft in the apartment halls and the hairs on my neck stood on end. I rubbed the skin and felt my nerves lurch into my throat. I paused, glancing over my shoulder. No one was there.

Of course. What was I expecting? The Batman? Pfft. I scoffed loudly, more so to reassure myself than anything. I hailed a cab but anxiety crawled under my skin. I tried to shrug off the tightness in my chest but it constricted persistently. I frowned, looking out the window as downtown Gotham edged by. I paid the man his due and exited the yellow car. When I reached the shop, the man was already waiting. I tried to offer him an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry. Did you wait long?" His mouth spread into a smile.

"No. No-_tah_ at _all_." There was something sinister to his demeanor but I refrained from acting fidgety. I unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. He followed me inside. I set my purse on the counter and maneuvered over to the coat rack. The suit was encased in a plastic, dry cleaning bag and I retrieved a smaller plastic sack to place the gloves in. Tying the end to the coat hanger, I carried the parcel back. His eyes tracked my every move. My smile grew a little nervous and a little more forced.

"So, um, here's your order." I laid it on top of the counter that separated the two of us. I made a few more calculations in my head and gave him the total. It was an expensive project and I wondered if he had the means to pay for it. In his greasy jeans and ugly shirt, I imagined he wasn't the credit card type. Unless it was stolen. He nodded, fishing cash out of his back pocket.

"Sounds _re-son-ah-bull_." His looks, his manner of speech, even his anonymity… They disturbed me, if only a little. And I still hadn't shaken the unease that plagued me. I accounted it to the fact that it was Bert's payday. I glanced over his shoulder at the thought of the slimy loan shark. There was an obnoxiously demanding noise, like someone clearing their throat to get your attention. My eyes wandered back to the man. He waved the money in my face.

"Oh." I felt sheepish and a little annoyed. "Thanks." I opened the cash register and slid in the bills accordingly. Something brown stained the edge of a few slips of the green, but I disregarded it. He continued to watch me. Before I could ask what the _fuck_ he wanted, the entry bell tinkled. I felt the heat drain from my face. The man noticed the change in my disposition and glanced over his shoulder. Bert ignored him as he elbowed past him.

"Get lost, _bud_." He sneered. The man regarded him, cocking his head to the side and I glimpsed a perturbing glimmer in his eyes. Bert turned around. "Why aren't you gone yet?" He jerked his head at his greasy goons. "Take 'em outside boys." A grin spread across the man's face and he obliged, stepping outside. Bert returned his attention to me. I eyed him warily.

"I don't have enough money yet." My voice had a creak to it and I despised my weakness. It was the same weakness that had persuaded me to take up Bert's offer in the first place. He shook his head condescendingly.

"Kimmie, baby, come on now. How many times do I have to tell you?" He snatched the side of my head, curling his fingertips into my hair and ear. I cried out. "You gotta pay me back _somehow_."

"Listen, Bert, _please_. Let me get my paycheck first-"

"Kimmie, Kimmie, Kimmie." He hissed patronizingly. "How much time have I already given you?" I could only whimper in response.

"Ex-_cuse_ me." A growl escaped from Bert's throat. His grip loosened as he turned around.

"_What_?!" He demanded irritably. I slipped back, hands pressing against the cutting table. The man's hand flew up, slicing the air in front of Bert's throat. _What the hell is he doing?_ I thought wildly. Then, a gurgled noise rippled from Bert and I realized that the man had made contact. Blood sprayed out and he laughed as it hit him. My hands flew up to cover my mouth, my eyes going wide. His gaze rose to meet mine and I couldn't move as he sidestepped Bert's dying body. I didn't resist, I couldn't, when he grabbed my upper arm.

He held the knife against my cheek and I could feel the warmth of Bert's blood. His eyes glinted something malicious, his tongue flicking out like a snake's to wet his lips and the scars. The waxy pearl lines were jagged; a Glasgow smile. His lips seemed so soft compared to his grungy appearance and something foreign stirred in me. Hesitantly, I reached up. He stared down at me, his hideous smile freezing over. I almost imagined the pressure of the blade lessening as I brushed my fingertips against his lips. They were soft and dry. Nervously licking my own, I traced the scars up the left side of his face. In that brief moment, that foreign feeling welled up inside me again and I recognized it as pity. He must have seen it in my eyes and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor, head spinning and my cheek throbbing in pain. He laughed and I heard the tinkling bell, signaling his departure. Blinking away the pain, I found Bert's lifeless eyes staring at me, his jaw slack and the slice across his throat grinning at me as blood pooled around him.

I began to scream.

--

I'm sorry that this was so short! But I have to get this part out of the way before I move on to the juicy parts.

Longer comments would be nice! Although, I'm probably asking for a bit much. Ha, ha, ha. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.

Reviews are Love,

The Author.


	3. In Enemy Territory

Disclaimer: Nope. Still not in ownership.

A/N: I definitely have a playlist going (pathetic, I know) so tell me if you guys are interested in knowing and I'll post the list in the next chapter.

--

_Hey you Mrs. I-don't-know-what-the-fuck-your-name-is  
I'm drawn to you something's magnetic here  
If I could approach you or even get close to the scent that you left behind I'd be fine  
No doubt that (no doubt) you bring out (bring out) the animal inside_

_I'd eat you alive (I'd eat you alive)  
I'd eat you alive (I'd eat you alive)_

_Hey you, Mrs. Too-good-to-look-my-way and  
That's cool you want nothing at all to do with me  
But I want you, ain't nothing wrong with wanting you cause  
I'm a man and I can think what the hell I want, you got that straight?_

- Eat You Alive by Limp Bizkit

--

The Insanity of Reason

--

Chapter 3: In Enemy Territory

--

The lights and music of the club radiated through my system. Sara led me through the crowd, holding my hand as she confidently sashayed forward. She sipped her Cosmopolitan. I was never one for sweeter drinks, so I carried my own beer. The eyes of men were easily drawn to her and she wasn't afraid to offer them a coy smile or a flirtatious wink. I was not so bold. She paused in the middle of the dance floor and shouted over the music,

"I love this song!" It was her way of telling me she wanted to dance. I nodded and pointed over to the bar.

"I'll wait over there!" She nodded, hips rocking to the beat as I slipped around a few people. I snagged an empty seat and watched her, nursing my Sapporo. Sara was a beautiful girl and it wasn't long before guys flocked to her side. I soon lost sight of her and my brow furrowed. I glimpsed her edging away from an overly persistent carrot top and she caught my eye. His hands tugged at her waist and he was leaning towards her in a drunken attempt to kiss her. I immediately set my drink down and forced my way toward her. I didn't hesitate to push a red haired college boy out of my way.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He snapped, towering over me. I glared up at him and took Sara's hand.

"What the fuck do you think _you're_ doing, jackass?"

"Hey, I saw her first." I rolled my eyes.

"Well back the fuck off." He moved to grab Sara and I sidestepped in front of her. I kicked him in the shin with my boot and he cringed.

"What the fuck, man?" I pushed him, hard, and he stumbled back into a few people. I was fuming.

"You fucking touch her again and I'll rip your sac off like a paper towel!" Sara tugged on my hand.

"Kim!" She hissed in my ear. I let her pull me back to the bar.

"That's what you get for being too pretty." I grumbled, picking up my beer and taking a swig. She eyed me.

"You didn't have to get so crazy about it." I shrugged, leaning against the counter. I didn't say anything more on the matter. Sara was pretty and fragile, something to be protected. For the majority f my life, _I _had been protected and my ego swelled with the idea of guarding someone else. She shook her head but smiled, "Let's get out of here."

Sara had some issues. Guy issues. She always seemed to pick the worst men to associate with. I made it my duty to help her break that habit. We slid into the taxi and I offered my address. I yawned.

"Tired?" She asked. I shook my head.

"I dunno, I feel… weird." I bent over, clutching my head. "Ugh. Fuck."

"What's wrong?" I felt her hand rub my back in soothing circles.

"I just need to go home and take some Advil. I think I ate something funky this morning."

"Are you sure?" I sat up and leaned back.

"Yeah." She chattered the rest of the way and I fell in and out of awareness. The cab rolled to a stop and I stumbled out. Sara stuck her head out the window, worry etched into her face. I waved at her dismissively. "Don't worry about me. Go home." I tried to walk back to my apartment in a straight line. The hallways tilted and I steadied myself against the wall. I breathed deep and even before continuing on my quest to reach my front door without puking. I fumbled for my keys, my eyes watering, blurring my vision. When I managed to open the door, I saw my lamplight.

I always, _always_ left the lights off. Always. Someone was sitting on my couch, one leg crossed over, the ankle resting on his knee. His fingers were interlaced in his lap and his head was angled down. His eyes burned into mine. I blinked.

"Hi." The word was exaggerated and his mouth drew out the vowel like a long piece of gum. It was then that I noticed the white greasepaint and the black, matte coloring around his eyes. The room spun and I crumpled to the floor. A swarm of colors blurred before my eyes as he leaned down in front of me with a cruel, red grin.

--

A light slap rudely dragged me out of a pleasant unconsciousness. I mumbled something incoherent. My tongue ran along my lips; they were parched, the edges of the skin curling like parchment. A thick layer of tartar encased my teeth and I gagged. My limbs were stiff and I realized that I was tied to a chair. I groaned, shifting and sitting up. The light was blinding and it didn't take long for a headache to settle in my brain. My sight cleared a little and the man sat a few feet away in a backwards chair. His arms were crossed and rested on the back. A freezing sensation trickled down my spine as I realized whom I was sitting across from.

"_Gooooood_ morning, sunshine!" I swallowed. "Remember me? I hope you remember me; it would help you out a _lot_ if you remembered _me_." I licked my lips.

"You- you came i-into the shop." He rolled his wrist, as if to keep me talking, "I made your clothes."

"Yes, _and?_" He asked impatiently. His face was one I didn't forget. Sometime before Sara and I went clubbing, I was flipping through the channels. The GNC had flashed an image taken from a security camera in a bank. Now that man sat staring at me expectantly.

"You're the Joker."

"Bing-_go!_" He cackled, jumping up from his seat excitedly. He clapped his hands in a child-like manner before bounding over to me. I flinched.

"What do you want with me?" I tried to push the chair back and only succeeded in falling onto my side. I moaned at the contact of cement and wood sandwiching my body. He made a tutting noise, wrenching the chair, and me, upright with surprising force.

"Let me ex-_plain_ this as best as I can, snookums." He flopped down and lounged against me. I didn't have the energy to shudder. "I have this, hm, I have this- no, no, no, no." He shook his head, propping his arm onto my lap and reaching up with his free hand to play with my hair. "_We_, yes, that's it. _We_ have this _attraction_. It's quite… _magnetic_." I said nothing. "So _magnetic,_ that I've been following you for _weeks_." I froze and he patted my knee. "Do you get it now, darling? Do you see what you've made me do?" He cackled. "Look how _loopy_ you've made me!" He sprung to his feet and pushed his face close to mine. I felt him inhale and my hair fluttered. The door opened.

"What?" He snarled, whipping around. The man stiffened.

"Uh, there's something that, uh, you might want to see, boss. It's about Harvey Dent." There was a moment before a frustrated noise escaped him.

"I'll be right back, doll face." The Joker straightened and waltzed away. I glanced up to see him lean over to his employee. The Joker's eyes switched between us. "No touch." He warned, as if speaking to a small child. He wagged his finger patronizingly.

I slouched in my chair, arms still tied behind my back. When he left, slamming the door in a childlike rage, his lackey shifted, obviously relaxing. I silently observed him through my bangs and I caught him watching me. He licked his lips and cautiously walked forward. He glanced at the door, as if the Joker would burst through at a moment's notice. He pulled a switchblade from his back pocket and I tensed, sitting up straight. He followed my gaze to the blade and wet his maw again.

"You want out?" He asked, his voice breathy. I could see the battle in his eyes. (To act, or simply stand still, like an obedient _dog_ carved of stone?) "You want out?" He repeated, swooping down to cut the rope that kept my feet. He grasped my arm, painfully pulling me up to a standing position. "Then you have to do me a favor." Backing me into the wall, his hand snaked up to grip my jaw. His lips met mine in a moist, unwanted kiss. I squirmed before feeling the edge of the knife digging into my side. I froze. A whimpering protest escaped my throat and the door slammed open.

"_WHAT DID I SAY?_" A voice roared and I knew it belonged to my true captor. The man became fearfully distracted and as he turned his head, I took the opportunity to knee him in the balls as hard as I could. He sank to the ground, a scream ripping from his lips. The handle was all I saw of the knife wedged into his back. "What did I say abou-tah _playing_ with _my things_?!" The Joker swept forward, his coat, the one I stitched with my own fingers, billowing about his calves. Another blade in hand, he yanked his subordinate's head back and slit his throat. The cut looked like another red smile and blood spurted and wept from the wound. I watched in wide-eyed terror as the fluid stained my shoes and splattered onto my shins. The Joker gave a shrieking laugh, "Don't we make a _wun-dur-ful_ team, sweet cheeks?!"

He grabbed my wrists, still bound behind me and dragged me backwards from the room. I stumbled, tripping over myself and landing on my butt. The Joker made an impatient noise and swung down, picking me up with ease. As we swiftly traveled down several hallways, I tried to look up, to study the face. I couldn't call it _his_ face. The white make-up was just as outer layer, like an eggshell. I could see the faint outline of his scars through the red and he glanced at me.

"See something you _lie-_kuh?" And he forced my head down, nuzzling it into his chest. He smelled like smoke and ash. Underneath was a man smell, so clearly masculine and dominant that something inside me ached and briefly, I thought of Rick.

Rick was a cop I had dated during my years at med school. He was a good guy, clean and a people person. He had typical, rugged American looks and his chiseled features and good nature won my parents over. They were sure that I was going to marry him. I, however, wasn't so sure. There was nothing _wrong_ with Rick; he had the potential to be an excellent father and husband. But something in me knew that he wasn't _the one_. It could've been his pearly white smile, his warm and loving mother to his sparkling record and highest rate of arrest in downtown Gotham. Something didn't settle right with me. Even after we had sex, which I thought _for sure_ would fix whatever was wrong with me, I wasn't… well, fixed. We broke it off amicably and we still talked. Rick and Sara were my closest, if not only, friends. I wondered how long I had been out and when would they discover that I was missing.

Missing and in the captivity of the Joker.

--

Oh boy. Here we go.

Rick's a little important, so I apologize if his introduction was a little abrupt. If you have any ideas, let me know! I always love hearing from you guys.

Reviews are Love,

The Author.


	4. Clarification

Disclaimer: Never!

A/N: The lyrics right before each chapter are a little important. Please keep them in mind. Thanks, lovers.

--

_Another knife in my hands  
A stain that never comes off the sheets  
Clean me off  
I'm so dirty babe  
The kind of dirty where the water never cleans off the clothes  
I keep a book of the names and those_

_Only go so far 'til you bury them  
So deep and down we go_

_Touched by angels, though I fall out of grace  
I did it all so maybe I'd live this every day_

_Another knife in my hands  
A stain that never comes off the sheets  
Clean me off  
I'm so dirty babe  
It ain't the money and it sure as hell ain't just for the fame  
It's for the bodies I claim and lose_

_Only go so far 'til you bury them  
So deep and down we go_

- "I Never Told You What I Do For A Living" My Chemical Romance

--

The Insanity of Reason

--

Chapter 4: Clarification

--

Something slid against my bare flesh. I blearily opened my eyes. An ancient and rusted chandelier glimmered dimly above my face. The creamy, marbled wallpaper was decrepit. Cracks spider webbed the ceiling and I could spy hints of plaster behind the once grand ceiling. The bed was soft, if not musty and my fingers curled into the dusty sheets. I pulled my head up with great difficulty, as a headache was persistently racking my brain. I winced, my vision still blurry. I rubbed my eyes and froze. The Joker lounged on his stomach, his head propped up on one hand and a knife in the other. He was playing with the blade, tracing lines and shapes on my leg, trailing it up to my inner thigh, past the hem of my skirt. His head still bent down, he rolled his eyes up at me.

Skittering backwards, I coughed, the dust rising from the bedding as we twisted. I felt my back press into the headboard and the Joker's free hand clamped down on my knee. He pulled himself forward and up, sitting on one of my legs and settling the edge of the knife against my jaw line.

"Now, now. Let's play _nice-_uh." He licked his lips and the red gleamed like fresh blood. I didn't dare tear my eyes away from him. He seemed to relax his hand, caressing my cheek with the blade. Its tip traced the bridge of my nose and the shape of my lips. My breath quickened as it slipped down the curve of my throat, making little white marks on my clavicle. I felt something hard suddenly press into my leg. Shivering, I realized in horror that he had an erection. His eyes followed the gleaming metal as it trailed down to my breasts. I squirmed away and he jerked forward.

I felt the knife slice the skin above my left breast. It was cold before burning with a white-hot pain that forced a shriek from my throat. He frowned as if witnessing a minor mistake.

"Now look what you made me do." His tone was that of an exasperated adult scolding a stupid child. The Joker reached, his fingertips closing in on my cut.

"Don't touch me!" I kicked him, the bottom of my foot finding his chest. I heard the air escape his lungs as he fell back onto the bed. I swung my feet over the edge and scrambled to, the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. I felt hot tears pooling into the outer corners of my eyes. I sniffled, crying as I rummaged around the drawers. When I found a first aid kit, a bang made me nearly jump out of my skin.

"Kimberly." The sound of his voice almost seemed to make the wound more painful. It was long and deep. I winced.

"Go away." I choked out, my hands shaking as I forced the wiry thread through the eye of the needle. I opened a bottle of unmarked painkillers and popped the remaining pills. He thumped on the door again.

"Open the door." The Joker growled, his voice low and commanding. I placed two fingers on one side, pulling the skin taut. I failed to stop my whimper when the needle sank into my flesh. I blinked away the tears and pain, biting my lips. I tried controlling my breathing, concentrating on the needle. I heard him rattle the door fiercely.

"Leave me alone!" I screamed. I clenched my teeth, moaning softly at the pain. It was slowly becoming harder and harder to stop crying.

"_KIMBERLY!_" He bellowed, animalistic and full of rage. I imagined that he was pounding with both fists. A few splinters flew off the door. I stitched as quickly as I could. In, out. In, out. _Bang, bang, bang_. The needle was slippery from blood and the pain settled to a dull throb and I hastily knotted it off. The banging stopped and I slumped against the door.

"Why?" I sobbed, "Why did it have to be me?" I was greeted with silence and for a moment, I thought he had left. I felt him lean into the door.

"Because," His voice was breathy, needy and urgent, "You _see_ me."

"I don't understand." I whispered thickly. I rose to my feet quickly and stumbled to the sink again. I twisted the pipes as hard as I could and I felt the bathroom groan and rattle as water surged up. I splashed my face and looked into the spotted and dingy mirror. My mascara and eye liner was running, fading down my cheeks and my eyes and lips were puffy from my crying.

"Don't _wur-ee­._" His voice crooned through the door. "I'll make you understand. Because, you see, that's why I chose you. You have the potential _understand_ me. All I have to do is _help_ you." My fingertips gently touched my messy stitches. My bowl necked off-white shirt was stained with blossoms of blood. I could feel the drugs kicking in, ebbing through my system as the throbbing cut dulled and my headache grew foggy and distant. I took a few, staggering steps backwards and allowed myself to crumble into a seated position between the toilet and the claw foot tub. I pressed my cold palms into my eyelids, trying to cool down. My breathing slowly became regular and even.

"Oh, God," I leaned my head back, feeling the cool tile on my scalp.

"Kim-_bur-lee_," The Joker called in a singsong voice. "Time to _play._" I closed my eyes and shook my head.

"No," I mumbled. Things grew hazy and I walked the fine line between conscious and dreams. I remember the door banging open and the Joker striding over to me with a warped look of fury on his face. He swept down, grabbing me by the throat and hoisting me up. An awkward, strangled noise escaped from my mouth.

"Try-_ying_ to esca-_puh_ me, hm?" I felt my body fly through the bathroom doorframe and slam into the ground. I could care less. My head lolled to the side and I saw his leather shoes clack towards me. The Joker crouched beside me, pushing my hair from my eyes and holding my jaw, angling my face as if to get a better look at me. "Hee, hee. Ho. Ha. Ha." His lips curled back to reveal stained teeth and his voice was a monotonous strain of notes. "Nice try, baby cakes." He pushed my chin away. My body was limp and my head foggy with drugs.

"You're fucking _crazy_." I managed to slur out. He froze for a moment, staring at me with a childlike hurt. He began rocking on his heels, hugging his knees to his chest.

"_Not_. Not. No. I'm _not._" He said, face turned to the side and away from me.

"Are too." I was delirious by then. "What… what the fuck happened to _you?_ Sniff too much glue as a kid?"

"No. _No_. Did _not_. Am _not_ c-crazy."

"Or was it," My head flopped to the side but I left it there. "Maybe you were _born_ like this. Like a fucking _loony_." I rolled over and felt my body quiver. Then, it rolled up my throat and out of my mouth. A mix of colors I can't quite remember stained the floor. I groaned. "I'm fucked up. I'm so fucked right now." I wiped my mouth as best as I could. He was still rocking, trying to ignore the courage the drugs had given me. "Fuck you." I managed to wheeze out. "Fuck you, you fucking crazy, glue sniffing ass." His hand struck me faster than I expected. He leapt to his feet, furiously kicking my sides and stomach. I had no time to utter a cry of pain.

The Joker stood over me and backhanded my face, his knuckles hitting my cheekbone. He bent down and I heard my shirt rip. He pushed me over to my stomach, my face pressed into the ground. The cold was a brief moment of comfort before I felt his belt on my back. I was crying, screaming,

"Please! Please no! Stop, please, _please_! You're hurting me!" He began laughing, a loud, cruel noise.

"I haven't even started!" My back was wet from blood and after a while, he threw the leather strap down, the buckle painfully connecting with my spine. I cried out and he sat beside me. "_Well_, now that we have _that_ done with." I felt his hand on my head, stroking my hair, "Don't think I'm done with you though. Those little comments you made about ten minutes ago made me angry." He stopped and for a moment, I thought he would hit me again. The petting resumed, "But that's okay. You're still learning and there's plenty of time for me to punish you later." He chuckled and the marble floor was slippery with my tears and blood. I was still sobbing, my shoulders shaking and quivering spastically.

"I never told you what I do for a living," He said. I hiccupped.

"You kill people." I meant it was a fact and I prayed he didn't perceive it as an attack of some sort.

"_Nooo_, well, yes, but that's _apart_ of the job, not the _entire_ job." The Joker corrected me, using a tone of voice an adult might use to humor the idiot child. I sniffled. "I've decided that Gotham deserves a better class of criminals." His fingers threaded through my hair, "and I'm going to give it to them. You see, Kimikins, I'm a man of my _wor-duh_," His voice dropped low and guttural and I tried to shrink away. His grip on my scalp froze me into place. "Whatever I hold true on the streets, Gotham will hold true for the entire city." And he giggled. "Just thought I'd _clarify_ with you first, sweet cheeks."

--

Reviews are Love,

The Author.


	5. The Not Escape

Disclaimer: Never!

--

The Insanity of Reason

--

Chapter 5: The (Not) Escape

--

I leaned in front of the mirror, taking in my injuries from his beating. I had awoken on the floor, exactly where the Joker had left me, and I saw no one for three days. I drank water from the sink and it was bitter and dingy. My stomach groaned and gurgled for food and the scabs on my back broke and bled freely with a frequency that alarmed me. I studied my face. My left eye was almost swollen shut and my lips were cut up and bruised. I gently touched my cheeks and hissed in pain. My eyes fell to my throat.

_And to his lover, he bequeathed a string of black pearls._ I scoffed, running my fingers over the spots on my neck. Even _breathing_ was fucking painful. My ripped and bloody shirt was repulsive. I tried washing it, but I couldn't find any soap in the bathroom and relented to simply rinsing it. The stains were lighter, or maybe the shirt was simply darker. I had it tied around my torso awkwardly and it showed off the bruises on my shoulders and ribs. I prodded them. They still shrieked in pain, but I was surprised the Joker hadn't broken anything.

Maybe he was simply meticulous like that.

I smoothed my disgusting hair. Bathing didn't help my state when there was no soap or shampoo to really clean myself with. I felt disgusting. Pushing away from the mirror, I walked back into the bedroom and jangled the doorknob to the outside world.

The door was unlocked. I froze; the door was _never_ unlocked. I had tried to open the damn door for the past three days and never did it give way. I held my breath and gently opened the door. The hallway was silent. I crept out, the air hanging like a dead weight around my ears. I reached to press the down button when it suddenly illuminated and the doors screamed open. The Joker cocked an eyebrow, towering over me.

"Wha-_tah_ do you _think_ you're do-_ing_?" I stepped back and fled to another door. I threw it open and bounded down the stairs, knowing that he was quick on my heels like an attack dog. I felt his weight collide into me, pushing me painfully against the wall. His fingers wove into my hair and slammed the side of my face into the plaster. Shapes and colors exploded before my eyes and I felt him swing me around and shove me away. I stumbled back and tripped, rolling down the stairs until I hit the wall. I curled up with a moan. He squatted down in front of me and lifted my head, pulling me by my hair. "Are you quite finished?" He asked simply, his tone bored. My vision swam and blurred. I felt him scoop me up into his arms like a rag doll, giggling. My head lolled back and I could barely register what he was saying in a ridiculous singsong voice. I closed my eyes and welcomed the black unconsciousness.

--

My head hurt and I groaned. Someone shushed me gently and stroked my face and hair. I could feel the sharp, pricking sensation of tears behind my eyelids.

"Mom?" I croaked out in Korean. The hand paused. I opened my eyes. The lights and colors were a swarming blur and slowly focused into a blank faced Joker looking down on me. The chandelier emitted a glow behind his head, creating an obscene halo. I shifted and pulled away. I was surprised when he didn't try to stop me. He leaned back on his palms; legs still crossed Indian style as I slipped off of the bed, steadying myself on the intricate post. The wood felt smooth and worn in my hand. The Joker paused before swinging himself into a standing position, fingers interlaced behind his back. He approached me in a pensive, quizzical manner. He licked his lips, observing me. I flinched and took a step back.

"Does it hurt?" I couldn't place his tone of voice; it was so absurdly foreign that I didn't dare myself to hope-

"What?" My voice cracked and I felt my eyes begin to burn. He made an exaggerated circular motion around his face.

"_That_." Oh. I tensed, preparing myself for another beating. He took a step forward and I backed away, shaking my head. My hands reached behind me, aching for contact with the wall. I swallowed and his gaze seemed to diminish. "Hey." The Joker's voice was softer. He reached out, fingers gently curling into the air before me. I pressed myself flat against the wall, trying to block out the pain from the lashes on my back. His eyes settled on my throat and he pursed his lips thoughtfully. "C'mere." I shook my head.

"No." The sound was small and I knew that it angered him.

"I said _come here!_" His hand shot out and he grabbed my arm, pulling me into him. I stumbled and I felt his fingers dig into my back. I screamed, knees buckling but he supported my weight with one arm. I was weeping, body trembling and shaking from pain, gasping, Jesus, did breathing hurt, and then, he was stroking my hair, whispering into my ear. He picked me up, cradling me into his arms, rocking me as he set me on the bed. I curled away from him, still crying. He placed a hand on my shoulder and I shrunk as much as I could.

"I hate you." I sobbed. His hand stiffened. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you." I felt his anger, and for a moment I thought he would beat me again. I was surprised when he turned and stalked out of the room, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

I fell asleep with a wet pillow.

--

A soft clanking noise roused me from a dreamless sleep. I rubbed my eyes. I was on my stomach, one arm tucked under the slightly damp pillow. I couldn't have been out for very long. A weight sank beside me on the bed and leather hands lifted the remaining fabric of my shirt. I could hear a soft ripping noise but my body ached too much for me to act. I could do nothing but lie there like a rag doll. I grew fearful as he tugged the ruined top out from under me. My bra was quickly and equally done away with. I tired to look at him over my shoulder but he forced my head back down. I stayed silent, gripping the pillow. Was I to be raped, and then possibly murdered? Done away with? Then something thick and cold spread across my back and I couldn't stop a soft moan of relief echo from the recesses of my throat. He pulled me up to a seated position and began wrapping a thick gauze around my torso.

"You know, pumpkin butt, as much as _you_ may not think so, I'm pret-_ty_ good at taking care of people," He tightened the material around my breasts before setting it in place with medical tape, "I'm _so good_, that I can practically _beat_ a person to death and then," he paused to giggle, "bring them back to life!" He patted my shoulder, "But don't worry. That's not necessary for you… yet." He turned to grab something on the bedside table. The Joker took my hand and pressed a few pills into the flesh of my palm. I obediently popped them into my mouth and swallowed them with the glass of water he had ready. I slumped back onto my stomach.

"I want to talk to my mother,"

"And why would I let you do that?"

"So she doesn't file a police report,"

"Oh, ho, ho, ho! Resigned to being a captive now, huh, baby cakes?" I buried my face into the bedding, as if to possibly escape his voice in the soft down.

"No, I just- please. I want to talk to her,"

"Well, you seem to want a lot of things, honey bear," He began inspecting his fingernails in an almost obsessive compulsive manner. "Bu-_tah_ I'm afraid that's not-_tah _possi-_bull_,"

"But why?" I choked out, "Why are you doing this to me?" There was a pause, then,

"Well, Miss Too-Good-To-Look-My-Way," The Joker's sneer had turned insanely dark, his voice more guttural and animalistic, "I understand you don't, ah, wan-tuh nothing at all to do with me, but I'm afraid that you'll just have to _deal_ with your card-_zah_."

His weight disappeared from the bed and I instinctively curled up. Something shifted against my ankle and I looked back to see one end of a handcuff around my left ankle. Sitting up, I drew my leg to me, feeling the chain. It slithered over the edge of the bed, dull and weighty. I peeked over the edge and found the chain in a coiled mess on the ground, the other cuff linked to the bottom of the bed. My eyes met the Joker's. He twirled a key ring on his finger, whistling like a comic jailer. I watched as he made a great show of tucking the key into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and patting the spot reassuringly.

"I can't really keep an _eye_ on you, so this'll have to do, baby cakes," He said, scrunching his face in exaggeration.

I silently swore to whatever God there was out there that I would get that key, no matter what.

--

Reviews are Love,

The Author.


	6. Descent

Disclaimer: No. Not at all.

A/N: In honor of TDK being released, I hopped back onto my computer and wrote this out. I haven't forgotten TIoR but I've had no time to work on it thanks to college apps. Enjoy!

---

The Insanity of Reason

---

Chapter Six: Descent

---

I didn't see the Joker for another three days. That seemed to be his preferred amount of "away" time. I found that the chain around my ankle was long enough for my to go into the bathroom with no difficulty. It would jangle noisily, to remind me of my captivity. The swelling on my eyes went down, but the ugly bruising glared back at me every time I looked into the mirror. With no food in the room, I was surprised my stomach didn't begin to digest itself. The water from the sink and tub began to run clearer with use, something I was grateful for. Time was meaningless, a nonexistent factor in the blur of my new life. If you could call it that. Huh, new life. I could've had a new life with Rick, but nope. I had to go and fuck that up. Was this karma for blowing off the nice guy? Getting stuck with the crazy motherfucker?

I was lounging on the bed, my leg heavy with the weight of the chain, when the door clicked open. I shot up, my body tense with fear and anticipation. A man stood in the door with a bag of groceries and a leather cap. I opened my mouth to scream, to beg him for help but he beat me to it,

"The Joker sent me," All hope of escape fizzled up and died. He shut the door behind him, "The name's Lenny," I nodded dumbly as he walked over to me and dumped the contents of the bag on the bed beside me, "Okay, so, the boss had me go pick up you a few things; we got some soap, shampoo, razors, deodorant, toothbrush, toothpaste, a t-shirt, some, uh, ladies stuff," I duly noted the box of tampons,

"Thanks," I said dully. Like it really even mattered.

"You alright, sweetheart?" He dropped his 'r's. _A Boston man._ I thought idly. I froze.

"You're the cabbie." I whispered hoarsely. Lenny looked a little guilty. I sprang at him, gripping him by the front of his jacket and shaking him as much as I could, "What the fuck, man!" I screamed, "What the fuck?! You _knew_? You fucking _knew?!_"

"The boss," He stammered, "The boss didn't want nothing to happen to you. And I got a wife and I- that's why I-"

"He didn't want anything to happen to me?" I fumed, "_Nothing _to happen to me? What the fuck do you call this?!" I shoved my face close to his, "Why the fuck did he not want anything to fucking happen to me?!"

"Because I don't like damaged _good-_zah," The Joker loomed in the doorway and although Lenny was no small man, the Joker seemed to tower above us both,

"How long?" I whispered, "How long have you been following me around?" His approach was slow, predatory and I felt my insides quiver and shake.

"Does it matter, doll face? You're here now; you're safe," and he began cackling. I shrunk away, burying my face in my hands, "Aw, don't cry, don't cry," He cooed. The door snapped shut, signifying Lenny's departure. My shoulders shook,

"No," I moaned, "No, please, no. Tell me this isn't happening,"

"Are you scared?" I nodded my head, "I don't want you to be scared…" His voice suddenly dropped, feral and grating, "I want you to be _terrified_!" The Joker sprung, knocking the bathroom supplies across the sheets and onto the floor. I yelped when he crashed into me, his trench coat stinging my skin and his forehead banged into mine. I didn't bother struggling against him and he stared down at me, his knees clenching my thighs together. He cupped my chin with his free hand while his other gripped my wrists above my head. The Joker slapped me lightly.

"C'mon, girly," I shook my head,

"Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Kimmie, Kimmie, Kimmie," His voice was sickeningly sweet and patronizing, "When will you understand that that's just not _poss-i-bull_, for me to do?" His grip loosened and he curled around me, softly crooning a made up song. My body froze, waiting for the punch line when he'd break my neck or snap off a few fingers. It never came. He quieted and I stared up at the ceiling, feeling his chest rise and fall rhythmically in sleep. Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes, leaking out and slipping down my temples, into my hair. What was this? This sudden gentleness? I didn't understand. The heat of his body was strangely comforting in the cold room. I closed my eyes, giving up on reason and surrendering to a dreamless sleep.

---

When I awoke, the Joker was no longer laying on top of me. He was sitting with his legs crossed, my head in his lap, gazing down at me. I blinked a few times. He studied my face and a single, ungloved finger traced my features. I waited on baited breath for him to crush my nose. But that didn't happen either. His hand passed over my throat; outlining each bruise he so lovingly gave me. I squirmed when he touched my breasts and his free hand gripped my shoulder and collarbone, clenching down painfully. I whimpered,

"Stop it," he ordered. I became still and he slid his lap out from under me. I kept my eyes focused on the ceiling, trying to disregard his wandering hands. A few times, he came dangerously close to my crotch but he allowed his fingers to play on my hips instead. "You talk in your _sul-eep," _He muttered. I swallowed,

"Sorry," I felt him pause. He merely grunted and continued. Abruptly the Joker sat up, crawling to loom over me. He licked his lips,

"I just wan-tah to le-tah you know that I'm going to _try_ not to hit you," I furrowed my eyebrows, "I'd like you to heal up _nicely_, see? So don't do anything that'll change my mind. Got it?" I nodded reverently. A reprieve from violence. Maybe karma was working in my favor. In one fluid motion, he got off and walked to the door. "Take a shower. Change into that shirt. I'll be back later," and he shut the door. I stayed down for another peaceful moment, relief flooding into my veins like heroin. My desire for hygiene kicked in and I scrambled up, ignoring the cramps and pains as I stooped to scoop up the toiletries on the ground. I soaked in the tub, relishing in the hot water and soap. I don't know how long I stayed in the water but the skin of my fingers and toes grew shriveled and pruned. I smiled for the first time in a while.

I dried off with towel scraps and my old clothes and slipped on the large, black t-shirt. I shifted uncomfortably. My underwear was ruined and going commando around the Joker was probably one of the stupidest ideas in the world and if anyone found out about it, I'd make history in the Darwin Awards. I tried cleaning, to distract myself with making the bed, picking up my things, anything to pass the time while the Joker was away.

I mulled over his new approach to me, the tenderness. It was bizarre and almost scarier than his usual violence. But at the same time… I dropped the pack of tampons. No. Absolutely not. I furiously shook my head. No way. I would not allow myself to find any emotional connection or attachment to him. He would probably be like this with any other woman he held captive. I paused. Out of all the shops in Gotham, he had to choose mine. I racked my brain for some recognition. Had I ever seen him prior to the episodes on the news? Or even before that? He had to have been different at some point in time. He had to have been… normal…

I always thought of the Joker as the Joker, ageless, one dimensional, with no past or future. Just crazy. To think of him possessing some degree of normalcy was disquieting. My mother crossed my mind and I briefly wondered about the Joker's mother. Was she horrified, disgusted that such a creature came out of her body? Or was she dead? Did she tragically die in childbirth? A car accident? Did he kill her? Millions of possibilities ran through my brain, each more gruesome and outrageous than the last. When I had no more to clean, I sat on the bed, staring at my feet, pondering the Joker's origins. I was too scared to ask, to ruin the kindness he was presenting.

The door opened with a bang. I jumped, jerking back on the bed. The Joker stood in the doorway, a grin on his white face. His make-up was patchy and worn as if he had been sweating. _Killing?_ I wondered but he strode towards me with gusto so I pushed the thought away, concentrating on him. He knelt and grabbed my chained ankle. I tensed as he reached into his pocket. Would he pull out a knife and cut off my toes? I shuddered. He pulled out the key and unlocked me. I eyed him nervously.

"I have a pre-_sent_ for you," He stood, yanking me to my feet.

"A present?" I asked hesitantly. The Joker nodded vigorously and pulled me out of the room and down a hall. We stopped.

"I stopped by your apartment, sugar tits. Guess who I found _prowling_ about?" He gave me a deranged grin and opened the door. I shrieked at the sight of Rick, cut to fine ribbons and still strapped to the chair. The Joker's arms encaged me when I tried to rush to Rick's side. I struggled fiercely, swinging my heel up behind my and hitting him in the crotch. He groaned, collapsing to the side and gripping the doorframe for support. I flew from him and cradled Rick's face, sobbing,

"What did you do? What did you do to him? Rick? Rick!" I was babbling, "No, no, no, no! How could you? How could you leave me like this?" I turned to the Joker who rose to his full height, "How could _you?_ How could you do this to me?" I hiccupped, my cries wild and animalistic, "After everything! I've been trying to be a good little hostage and this- you go out and do this?" I sank to the floor, moaning,

"Hostage?" The Joker's voice was a rumble, "_Hostage?_ Oh, no, Kimberly. You're not a hostage. You belong to me. Plain and simple. Hee, hee. Ho, ho. Ha, ha, ha, ha!" He bit out sarcastically, "And this? I was just taking out yesterday's _garbage. _He was just interfering, even while you _slept,_" My jaw dropped and I felt my face pale,

"Oh, God… It's my fault, it's all my fault," I crumbled, hugging myself, "Oh, God… Oh, Rick, Rick! It's all my fault you're dead, because- because I talk in my sleep. It's all my fault," The Joker frowned, his brow knitting downwards, as if pulled by an invisible thread. I stared at the blood splatter on the floor, rocking. A thought suddenly occurred to me and I went still. The Joker's shoes clipped into my view and I looked up, "Kill me," I whispered. He was silent, "Please. Just- just kill me,"

"No," and for a moment, he sounded normal. I quaked, tears welling up in my eyes like an overflowing spring,

"Please," I begged, gripping his pant leg, "Please," He jerked away, his gaze cold. He crouched down in front of me, roughly grabbing my chin. He tilted my face this way and that, examining me from all angles,

"You look desperate, sweet cheeks. It's _pah-_the_-tic_," he deadpanned. He swept me up into his arms in one fluid motion, cradling me like a rag doll. I sobbed into his chest as he carried me back to the room. He dumped me on the bed and I shivered without the warmth of his body. I curled into myself, arms wrapped tightly, trying to keep myself together. The Joker returned shortly, his coat and jacket off, his sleeves rolled up. I heard him kick his shoes off and felt the bed sink slightly as he pulled himself close to me, fitting his body against mine. I shut my eyes, biting my lip hard enough to bleed. His hand found one of my own and he gripped it too tightly to be comforting. He hummed, a little off key and I cringed, crying,

"Ashes, ashes," he breathed, "We all fall down,"

---

I'M BACK BABY! God, I love the end of this one. :)

Reviews are Love,

The Author


	7. Distracted

Disclaimer: All I want for Christmas is… THE JOKER IN HIS NURSE COSTUME! WITH A REINDEER PIN! AND COOKIES AND MILK! Hopefully not poisoned…

A/N: I LOVE YOU, TUNA, WHOMEVER YOU MAY BE.

---

The Insanity of Reason

---

_Hands, like secrets, are the hardest thing to keep from you  
Lines and phrases, like knives, your words can cut me through  
Dismantle me down (repair)  
You dismantle me  
You dismantle me_

Give me time to prove  
Prove I want the rest of yours (prelude)  
Call this a prelude to a lifetime of you  
It's not that I hang on every word  
I hang myself on what you repeat  
It's not that I keep hanging on  
I'm never letting go

- Dismantle. Repair by Anberlin

---

Chapter Seven: Distracted

---

"Hold still," I awoke to the Joker's weight pressed on top of me, squeezing my arms to my sides with his knees. He was bent forward, examining something on my breast. My eyes nervously darted down and spied the wire stitches. I had almost forgot about those. He carried a small knife in his hand while the other cupped my breast. His tongue poked out of the corner of his red mouth as the tip of the blade brushed against the my skin. My breath caught in my chest when he slipped the razor beneath the visible stitches. They came undone quickly and I whimpered as I felt the wire slide out of my flesh. He tossed the stitches somewhere onto the floor and got off. I gently touched the tender area and winced. Then I thought, _Rick's dead._ Before the thought could completely compute in my brain, the Joker said,

"Get dressed. We're going out." He tossed a brown paper bag at me. I opened it hesitantly and the paper crinkled mournfully against my hands. I pulled out a black hoodie, some vermilion skinny jeans and a strappy black tank top. A small make-up kit was wrapped in the pants. I peeked up at him. He was carelessly throwing off his clothes, the ones I had worked so hard to make. I supposed that he expected me to clean up after him later, if and when we returned. I peeled off the over sized shirt I had been wearing and cautiously sniffed the one he had given me. I looked over at his suddenly still form to find him staring at me. He was naked, one eyebrow arched expectantly as a warning. I dressed in good haste. The jeans rode low on my hips and bunched at my calves and ankles. The top hugged my frame more snuggly than I was comfortable with and every time I moved, the fabric inched up. The jacket was a little big, but it was far more comfortable than the tank top. I squatted, rolling up the pant legs a little. I heard the shower run as I slipped on the black flip-flops. They felt sticky and worn from use. My nose crinkled and I brushed out my hair as best as I could with my fingers. I probably looked liked some deranged crack whore. I sure as hell felt like one. I applied the concealer to my face and neck, hoping to blend my skin into one even color.

The Joker ignored me when he reemerged from the bathroom, towel drying his hair. He shook himself out like a wet dog, growling and making an odd, motorboat noise. For one bizarre moment, he reminded me of a pet that had belonged to an old neighbor. The mutt had been overly excitable, almost consistently foaming at the mouth from his spazing. He would bark, sudden and random, before rolling around on the grass with a deranged grin. The Joker dropped the towel and moved to the dresser. He muttered something nonsensical (probably something about Batman and Jell-O for all I knew) as he dug around the middle drawer. Finding and pulling on a pair of violet boxer briefs, he began to speak.

"We're-uh going to r-_un_ some _er_-unds." He slipped into some brown skinny corduroys and tugged a black Sid Vicious shirt on. The Joker plopped down on the edge of the bed to yank on green, argyle socks. He laced up his purple high top converse. "If I catch you doing anything, ah- anything, hm…" He tapped his lips thoughtfully. "Anything I don't like, I'll punish you." He straightened. "Got it?"

It took a moment for me to nod, a moment too slow. I knew in that instant he didn't like it. His scars twitched as he growled, advancing towards me. He gripped my face, tilting my head back so far, my neck cracked.

"I don't think we're _quite_ on the same page." I suddenly felt the cool, thin edge of a knife on my throat "If you do _anything_ that I don't _lie-kuh_, I'll get angry. And when I get angry, I get mean. _Real mean_." He shook his head vigorously. "Got it?"

"Got it." I managed to choke out. There was a pause and the blade disappeared into his giggles. He grabbed my hand, more so out of control than affection. Dragging me out of the room, he steered us through a hall and into an elevator. He slammed the pad of his thumb onto the level one button and the doors screeched shut. Releasing my hand, he fished a small rubber band out from his pocket and pulled back his wet hair. A few strands bounced free, falling into his eyes and framing his face.

It had been a while since I had seen his naked face. Without the make-up, his scars seemed harsher, more defined. His eyes, although they never failed to lose their edge, seemed more human; his mouth, less cruel. It was easier to be in his presence like this, with this pretense of normalcy. I cocked my head to the side, eyeing him as sneakily as possible. He seemed thinner, lankier even, without the bulk of my suit. He glanced down at me,

"See something you _lie-_kuh_?_" He sneered, a cruel echo of the last time he caught me staring. I flinched,

"No, I mean- yes, no! I-" I ducked my head, embarrassed. He chuckled and briefly, I thought that the situation could've been normal. A guy with a girl, simple as that. He just teased her over something silly and she- she was just reacting… normally… Just the way Rick and I- _Oh, God… Rick…_ The Joker licked his lips and gave my hand a squeeze. I instantly looked up, "Yes?" I asked faintly,

"Nothing," his reply was curt. I averted my eyes. We left the elevator and he took me to a waiting taxi. Lenny sat in the driver's seat.

"Where to, Boss?"

"Downtown," the Joker snapped, "Make it fast," The tires screeched on the pavement and I winced as the weak sunlight filtered into the dingy windows. I peered outside, the skyscrapers horrifically imposing against the pale, gray sky.

"How long have I been gone?" I asked, my voice emitting in a rasp. The Joker picked at his nails,

"Ten days,"

"Ten days," I repeated, whispering. It felt like longer. I blinked a few times, surprised at the warm damp, prickling that hinted behind my eyelids. I carefully dabbed the corners of my eyes, looking up at the carpeted roof of the cab. I felt the Joker watching me. I swallowed, "What is it?"

"Hm?"

"You keep staring at me," my voice was small, "is there something on my face?" I pressed my fingers against my cheek. He shook his head,

"No, no. Can't a man look at his toys?" His lips spread across his teeth and for some reason, the grin seemed more playful than malicious. I folded my hands in my lap and didn't answer. He appeared to be content with the silence, so we drove on like that until Lenny pulled up to a bustling sidewalk. The Joker gripped my wrist, "No funny stuff,"

"No," I said hastily, "Of course not," He held my hand, waving Lenny goodbye. His long fingers interlaced with my own, but only to keep a better grasp. I stared at my feet, not daring to look up as we meandered the street, "What sort of errands are we running?" I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

"Some newspaper, office supplies, the usual," He replied, waving his hand dismissively. As he spoke, we passed a stand, so he doubled back and browsed the selections. All the headlines were the same. _JUDGE SURILLO DEAD! COMISSIONER GILLIAN B. LOEB MURDERED! WHAT IS GCPD DOING?_ My blood trickled into ice and my fingers tightened around the Joker's. He offered me a little smile and something in me knew that he was responsible. It must have been a peculiar sight; a small, Korean woman, face drawn, hand in hand with her tall, white boyfriend, care free and flipping through some newspapers. If only they knew that "he" was the Joker, the man responsible for the utter chaos Gotham was descending into, and that "she" was an innocent civilian, a bystander, a victim kidnapped and caught up in the mess he created.

_Caught up?_ Well, not necessarily, I mused. The Joker had kept me out of his affairs, blind to the things he was doing. In a way, I was grateful. I didn't _want_ to know the gruesome, gory details of his work. I cringed when I thought of how I had used the term "boyfriend". Oh, sweet Jesus. I could only imagine the family holidays. _"Hi, mom, hi, dad. I want to introduce you to my psychotic serial killing boyfriend! No, I don't know his real name. How did we meet? Well, that's a funny story. You see…"_

The Joker jerked on my arm, pulling me out of my nightmare and into stride with him,

"What's with you?" He grumbled, "You're acting all dazed and confused. Did you decide to eat all of the pain medication I got?" I stopped dead in my tracks and he looked at me,

"What's with me? What's with you?" I blurted, "You're starting to scare me," He moved in like a cobra, looming over me, head cocked to the side,

"Starting to?" He raised an eyebrow and I flushed at our proximity,

"That's not what I meant,"

"What did you mean?" The Joker practically purred. I gave him a baffled gaze,

"This niceness. You're almost… almost…"

"Almost what?" I didn't dare say it and I glanced away. The other passersby didn't take note of us, simply bustled around us, wrapped up in their own lives and problems, the people they had to see, places they had to go.

"Flirtatious," I whispered. He blinked before throwing his head back, laughing. I felt my face get hotter. The Joker sounded pleasant now and I grew dizzy with all of his bi-polar tendencies. I tried tugging my hand away but his hold was strong. He pulled me along side him as he continued walking,

"And I thought _my_ jokes were bad," He said cheerily. This time, I chose not to question him, "You looked starved," He finally voiced and pushed me into a place called _Dina's_. It was an old, fifties style diner, obviously a chain but the Joker spoke smoothly to the hostess (a bored, unnatural blond high school girl) who led us to a booth. He sat across from me, sliding into the red vinyl seat, his long legs wrapping around my ankles, preventing any escape. Like I _could_ escape. He'd be on me in a heartbeat, pummeling my face into the concrete like there was no tomorrow.

"Hmmm, so, you asked me earlier," I looked up from my inspection of the circular straw dispenser, "How long I'd been watching you," I didn't reply, staring into his eyes. He worked his mouth, raising one eyebrow, then the other, "Quite a while," He sucked on his teeth as a waiter poured us ice water, "Since… hmmm…. Since you were at Arkham, on a field trip with your psychopharmacology class from Gotham Medical," I blinked,

"Wow… um… that's uh, that's quite a while," It had been two years ago, when Dr. Jonathan Crane was still working at Arkham. In fact, he had been one of our tour guides. I had been dating Rick at the time. The Joker nodded,

"I suppose that means we're meant to _be_," He said dryly. It took me a moment to realize that he was trying to distract me. I felt something inside me soften and as much as I didn't want it to, I did.

---

Oooo, and the plot thickens. Yay for Dr. Crane! I'm working on a story for him and don't worry, kids; a sequel is in the works for this, too. If you have any ideas for the errands Kim and the Joker will be running, let me know. I just wanted them out of the rundown hotel for a little bit.

Reviews are Love,

The Author.


	8. Resign

Disclaimer: Ahahaha, no.

A/N: Weird Fishes, whomever you maybe, I love you as well. Please send me any ideas you have for Kim and the Joker. Guys, I'm serious about those ideas! If you have any, tell me!

---

The Insanity of Reason

---

Chapter Eight: Resign

---

A different waiter came to our table and told us that our original waiter was off, so he'd be taking over instead. I could see the Joker's mouth twitch, repressing his urge to work his lips into various shapes. The man looked between us, his commercial smile becoming strained. I hastily thanked him and said we needed a few more minutes with our menus. With a nod, he skipped off, clearly glad to be away from the psycho sitting across from me. The Joker's eyes lolled up towards the ceiling for a moment and he chewed on his lip, listening to the people in the booth behind him. I stared at the silverware, contemplating how difficult it would be to sneak a knife or a fork into the sleeve of my hoodie without him noticing. I quickly dismissed the idea; he'd probably wrestle it from me and stab me in the ovaries before I could say, "Arkham called; they want their lunatic back," Maybe that was seven too many words…

"Two days; remember that," I looked up,

"Huh?" He shot me an exasperated expression and tightened his grip on my ankles. I bit the inside of my cheek,

"When we get back, say, 'Two more days,' all right, buttercup?" I nodded weakly,

"Okay…" The waiter returned and the Joker handed him his menu, keeping his eyes trained on me,

"I'll have your New York strip, rare," I fumbled with my own menu,

"I'll, uh, I'm-" The Joker rapped his fingertips on the tabletop. The waiter offered me a sympathetic glance. Great, he probably thought we were a couple, "Cheese burger, plain please,"

"Anything to drink?" He asked, jotting down our orders,

"No," the Joker answered for me, "We're fine, _thanks_," The waiter disappeared and I suddenly felt very alone, "Flustered?" He purred. I felt myself gag on an ice cube. What was this- this flirtatiousness? Was he trying to seduce me? I flushed at the thought and his eyes gleamed. He looked so much more _human, _wearing street clothes and no makeup. There was something far subtler to his intimidation, more calculating. I thought back to the waiter, the one who assumed we were "together". I bowed my head, face still red,

"What do you think people think when they see us?" I whispered. He leaned forward, his forearms pressed into the tabletop,

"That I'm one _lucky_ bastard," I kept my eyes averted, pushing into the red seat, trying to disappear,

"Please, don't make fun of me like that," I cringed, anticipating his furious, raging violence. He chuckled instead and I found myself even more horrified,

"Look at me," I shook my head, opting to search the stippled crowd out the window. "Look. At. Me," His voice had instantly grown into a menacing growl emitting deep from the back of his throat. I could feel his shins crush my ankles together painfully. My eyes slowly rose to meet his. He was closer, his long body stretched halfway across the table. One of his hands found my chin and he jerked me forward into a heated, possessive kiss. My brain flickered off as his mouth molded against mine. His lips were soft, probably from all the makeup, and he kept his saliva in his own mouth, for the most part. His tongue, hot and wet, traced the inside of my lower lip and the edge of my canines. I resisted the urge to struggle; in that position, he could snap my head into the window or down onto the table.

"Ahem," came the small, embarrassed noise. I hastily pulled back. The Joker grinned up at the waiter who balanced our food on a tray, "Sorry to interrupt," He stuttered out, "Your steak, sir. Be careful, miss, the plate's hot," And he placed the burger in front of me. I barely managed a "thank you," before he was gone. I stared at the burger, the kiss forgotten. I shoved the burger into my mouth, biting off enough to swallow, not bothering to chew. The Joker looked on, amused as I ripped the thing apart. I didn't even taste the meat or the cheddar, I could only think of filling my stomach. I was done in a matter of minutes; the Joker hadn't even gone halfway through his steak. I breathed through my nose, trying to pace my irregular pattern. I reached for my glass and downed the rest of my water. The Joker pushed his own, untouched glass of water towards me with the butt of his knife. I chugged that, too.

I leaned back, finally feeling the food and water settle in my stomach. I watched the Joker lazily as he chewed his red meat. His eyes rolled up to look at me. I blinked. Had he been wearing his gear, he would've looked predatory. In that instant, he only looked… lustful. My insides twisted, violently flip-flopping.

"Excuse me," I practically tripped over myself, bolting to the unisex bathroom. I didn't bother locking the door as I catapulted to toilet, puking up the undigested cheeseburger. The sour smell stung my nose and I choked. I felt a pair of deft hands sweep my hair back roughly,

"You shouldn't have eaten so fast, bumble butt," He half sneered. My body shuddered, a cold sweat broken across my back and forehead. The hoodie stuck to my skin and when I was done, I slumped away from him, the cool tiles pressing into the palms of my hands. I moaned quietly. The sudden intake of food to my shrunken stomach was too much for my weakened body to handle; I should've known better,

"Why?" I whimpered, "Why _me_? Why? What makes you think that I see you? I barely know you!" The Joker crouched, eyeing my shivering form,

"Ah, but _I _know _you_, and that's all that really matters," I lolled my head to the side,

"What? What do you know about me?" My eyes stung and prickled with tears of frustration,

"You graduated high school at the age of seventeen, graduating a year earlier than your original incoming class. You attended Gotham University, lived on campus for the first two years before moving in with a few roommates. You've lived at twenty-three fifty on the corner of Irving and Forty-Seventh for three years. You were second in your class, a few points behind a certified genius from Turkey, before you dropped out of medical school at twenty-four, when your debts to Bert grew too high for you to pay back. You celebrated your twenty-fifth birthday this past July 18th at Gregorio's, the same place your father took your mother thirty-seven years ago, after the birth of your brother," I stared, "It's all in the details,"

"You're exaggerating about the guy from Turkey. He wasn't a certified genius," I mumbled,

"Well I'm not a certified genius either sweetheart, but that doesn't stop me from telling you to shimmy your gookanese butt through that window," He pointed up at a sliding glass window. I paled,

"You're kidding," He grinned,

"Why so serious?" The next thing I knew, the Joker was shoving me through the window, his own, long, flexible body following me. He took my hand, dragging me away from the back alley of Dina's. _I just skipped a bill_, I thought wildly, _I just skipped a bill with the _Joker_, of all the people in the fucking world… _Never mind skipping bills, I had never so much as skipped a traffic ticket.

"We just skipped a bill," He snorted, "I can't believe we just _skipped out on the bill_," I blabbered,

"Of all the things you could get caught doing with me, you're worried about a _fucking_ restaurant check,"

"Of course I'm worried!" I hissed, "I've never done anything illegal!"

"Keep your voice down, my little parakeet; the fuzz might hear you," I flushed when he threw me a wicked grin over his shoulder; he was teasing me again. The Joker licked his lips again and paused. I looked up at him wearily,

"What is it?" His brown eyes gleamed. He straightened to his full height and shifted to face me. I froze, my skin prickling unpleasantly in anticipation. Hands still linked, he stepped forward, cornering me against a brick wall. He adjusted his body for our severe height differences. The Joker dipped his head, inhaling in the crook of my neck. I trembled, trying to hold still,

"Did you ever wonder how I got these scars?" I felt the razor edge in my mouth before I knew he had taken it out. I stared up at him, refusing to struggle. Was this the end? "I met this girl a few years back, well I didn't _meet_ her, per say. I _saw_ her. She was a pretty little thing, 'bout your height, with white skin and black, black ha-ha-hair," His lips spread in a grin. I swallowed, "And I thought to myself, 'If I could even get close to her or the scent that she left behind, I'll be fine.' So I tried, but it didn't work. So I said, 'Hm, if only there was something I could do, something to get her attention…' and the light bulb went off. So I took a razor, much like this one, and did _this_ to myself," He gestured grandly to the pearly scars on his face. In the lingering, autumn sunlight, my skin grew cold, "But she never came to _sew me up_," I jerked away, nicking the corner of my mouth in the process. It burned, much like a paper cut and the Joker caught my face with his free hand, using his legs and weight to hold me in place.

"I'm sorry," I gasped. He paused, cocking his head to the side. I felt the butt of his knife at my hip as he held me, studying my face. He inclined his head and licked the cut at my mouth. I shivered as he shifted, muttering to himself,

"It should go like this," before he worked his lips over mine. His hand on my face trailed up into my hair, his fingers interlacing in the messy locks. My knees weakened and I buckled. A growl echoed from his throat "I'll eat you _alive,"_ His mouth was hot, needy even. The Joker kept his hands where they were, pushing me harder against the wall to keep me up. I could sense his inexperience and briefly, I wondered how old he was. He deepened the kiss as much as he could with a slight groan; I flushed. There was a desperation in him, something totally animalistic and deprived. Pity stirred in my chest, along with a familiar emotion that I shoved away as quickly as it came.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" We broke free instantly, my face red with exertion and embarrassment. The Joker straightened, eyes narrowed, his air cruel and calculating. _This is your chance! _My brain screamed. _Freedom! Escape!_ The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them,

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm sorry; my boyfriend and I got a little carried away," Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the glimmer of the knife. _Please_, I thought, _please don't fuck this up, Joker._ The officer glanced between us. I forced a grin, stepping closer to hold his hand. The Joker's expression smoothed over. The officer nodded slowly,

"Okay then. Have a nice day, kids," I waved goodbye and the Joker pulled me further into alley,

"Nice save," In the shadows, his smile seemed more like he was baring his teeth. I looked at my feet and didn't say anything. _Way to go!_ My mind screamed, _Way to fucking go! You blew it! You fucking blew your chance!_ "That was pretty good," he said casually, "Ever consider acting?" My legs faltered and I crumbled to the ground. The Joker still held my hand, but I didn't care. I cried, shaking on the cracked asphalt. I just condemned myself to a lifetime with the Joker. With that performance, he'd never let me go. I'd never leave. I thought about my mother and wondered if she knew I was gone.

"Get up," the Joker wrenched me to my feet. I collapsed into him, into the warmth he provided. He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and held me there until I quieted down. He said nothing and kept his arm around me as we walked back onto the bustling city streets. His grip suddenly became painful. I flinched, "Is there a problem?" He asked simply, his voice low,

"No," I choked out, "No, there's not,"

"Good," and his hold loosened. We went on in silence and I drifted into a dreamy state, dazed and compliant. We went to a convenience store and picked up a small sewing kit, some pencils and pads of yellow paper. We stood on a corner and he called Lenny to come get us. As we stood on the corner of Mason and Charleston, I could tell that the Joker was watching me. He still held my hand, albeit less brutally than before. I stared out at the passing traffic and barely registered Lenny's greeting as we slid into the backseat.

On the drive back to the abandoned hotel, I found myself analyzing and hypothesizing on why the Joker had seemingly turned a new leaf. In the back of my brain, my mother's voice reminded me that women reasoned things out in their brain to get over them. So I reasoned and I pondered and I decided that the Joker was all about approach. Despite his bragging that he was a man without a plan, he was horribly particular and meticulous. If one approach didn't work, he'd have to try another one. He continued holding my hand until we were in the room.

I walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I could hear the Joker whistling as I sunk down and held my head in my hands. He changed, maybe because the violence wasn't working. Working for what? What did he want me to do? I rolled the nugget around in my mind before the light bulb exploded. Violence didn't work because he was holding me against my will. If he tried a different, perhaps _kinder_ approach, the Joker expected me to _want_ to remain with him. My blood chilled and I felt my stomach twist. _He needs me_. The kiss was evidence enough to that. I sucked in a shaky breath and stood, a flimsy, hopeful idea forming in my mind.

I peeked inside the bedroom. The Joker sat on the floor, leaning against the bed, still whistling. He was fiddling with one of his many knives and an onion, carving an oddly shaped lump,

"Hey," My heart leapt into my mouth and I stepped forward, twisting my hands together. He ignored me, so I cleared my throat, "I'll stay," My voice trembled, "But on one condition," His head lolled to the side to look up at me,

"And, ah, what would that _be_? Hm, _sweet cheeks?_" I swallowed and desperately prayed to God,

"Let me finish med school,"

"Now, do I look _stu-pid_ to you? Do I, lover dover? Baby cakes? Honey _bear_?" I shook my head,

"No, I just-"

"I'M NOT FINISHED!" I quickly fell silent and almost imagined the room to be shaking from his intensity. "Now there. Tha-_tuh _wasn't so _har-har-hard_," He cleared his throat in a mocking sort of way. "Does it _really_ seem to you, that I'll just let you _waltz_ in and out of my life, whenever it _fucking_ pleases you?" I stayed quiet. "Hm?" I fidgeted, nervously fingering the hem of my shirt, keeping my eyes staring just over the top of his head. "Answer me!" I flinched, closing my eyes,

"No," I whispered, "Don't forget; two days," and that was the end of the conversation.

---

Reviews are Love,

The Author


	9. Razor's Edge

Disclaimer: Still, no.

---

The Insanity of Reason

---

Chapter Nine: Razor's Edge

---

I awoke in bed to the Joker's face nuzzled in the dip of my neck. His arms and legs were tangled in mine, encaging me even in sleep. Had he not been a raging lunatic holding me captive, I would've thought that it was sweet. But he was a raging lunatic and I was his prisoner. The previous day's chaperoned escape into the outside world was a hazy dream, one that I wished I could go back to. I laid there for a few moments, listening to his quiet breathing. Slowly, I allowed my fingers to trail to his hair, no longer greasy but soft wispy curls. In a flash, I was on my stomach, arms wrenched painfully behind my back with the Joker sitting on top of me, shoving my face into the musty pillow. I was gasping into the soft down for a few moments before he slowly lowered my arms. He released me, sliding off my legs. I sat up and gingerly touched my wrists. I looked up at him and his eyes searched my face.

Something in me softened and I couldn't rile myself up enough to feel angry or upset. The Joker tensed, waiting for me to act first. Awkwardly, I shrugged and turned away. I heard him snort and his weight disappeared from the bed. The door slapped shut and I closed my eyes. It was going to be another long day. I stripped, leaving the clothes strewn across the floor as I entered the bathroom. The jeans remained on the chain around my ankle; the Joker must've locked me up when I had fallen asleep. The bedroom smelled like onion. I felt sick.

I searched for the stopper for the drain and ran the hot water. Filling the yellowed porcelain bathtub, I idly swirled the water with my hand before getting in. I allowed the heat to seep into my skin, past the muscle and into my bones. I closed my eyes, seizing this blue moon moment of peace. Steam rose from my air-exposed skin, rising to the cracked ceiling. I ran my fingers through my hair. I was supposed to get it cut a little while ago. Rick was going to go with me. My vision misted before instantly clearing. I couldn't think of Rick anymore. It wasn't fair to dwell on him. Not with the Joker looming behind me. Not when one tight squeeze of jealousy could end my life.

I abruptly pulled the plug and the drain gurgled as it swallowed the bath water. I stood, turning the faucets back on to wash my hair. I was slowly resigning myself to this fate with the Joker and each moment felt like a time stamp; one more moment alive, how many more to go? I analyzed myself, trying to decipher what made me so attractive to him. I rinsed and turned the water off. I was slow to dry myself off and slower still to dress.

I found a maggot-less piece of bread and chewed it thoughtfully, contemplating my recent revelation. Why did he need me? What made me stand out from thousands and thousands of women in Gotham? There were plenty of girls more beautiful than I, probably more compliant too. I sat on the edge of the bed, musing the minutes away with my back to the door. Everything felt heavy and I was balancing precariously on a razor's edge. The Joker's razor, to be specific. How long would it be until he tired of me? Letting me go was out of the question. He'd probably kill me, leaving Lenny to dump my body.

They'd probably drive me to the harbor during low tide and weigh me down so that high tide would pull me out to sea. Then I'd be food for the fishes. I was surprised by how apathetic I was to the idea. Maybe the Joker's violence was numbing me to other pains. But his last outburst had been verbal, so maybe I shouldn't be too worried. I shivered, remembering his long deft fingers tracing shapes in my skin as I hovered in the haze between dreams and consciousness. My chest constricted painfully as his brown eyes came to mind. When his face wasn't painted, his eyes held more subtle intentions, intentions that he easily made clear.

_He inclined his head and licked the cut at my mouth. I shivered as he shifted, muttering to himself,_

"_It should go like this," before he worked his lips over mine. His hand on my face trailed up into my hair, his fingers interlacing in the messy locks. My knees weakened and I buckled. A growl echoed from his throat "I'll eat you _alive_," His mouth was hot, needy even. The Joker kept his hands where they were, pushing me harder against the wall to keep me up. I could sense his inexperience and briefly, I wondered how old he was. He deepened the kiss as much as he could with a slight groan; I flushed. There was a desperation in him, something totally animalistic and deprived. Pity stirred in my chest, along with a familiar emotion that I shoved away as quickly as it came._

That emotion now came back with a vengeance. Damn him! My fingers curled into the sheets, my knuckles turning white. Damn him… I gritted my teeth and locked my jaw, forcefully shoving the feeling aside before my brain could identify it and store it away to be mused on later. The door opened.

"Hel-_lo­ beautiful_," I threw him a disdainful look over my shoulder,

"What do you want?" I sounded like a sullen child. He had an uncanny ability to show up when I didn't want to see him the most,

"_Well_, I was noticing just how _moo-dee_ you've been, so I picked you up a li-_tle_ _gift_," He whipped out a bouquet of red and white roses. I hesitated at the sight of his grin, but took them in fear of a sudden outbreak of his violence. They were beautiful flowers, red splotches on the soft white petals. My nose tingled and I inspected them more closely. They were stained with blood. I dropped them and backed away, sliding my back against the wall. The Joker hopped over to me, landing in a crouch,

"You can't fear me forever, Kim-bur-_lee_!" He cackled, rocking back on his heels, "or can you, hm? Would you like to wait and see? _I'd-ah_ like to _wait_ and _see_,"

"Who did you kill?" I choked out, "_Who?"_ The Joker cocked his head to the side like a puppy. An evil, crazy, murderous puppy,

"Does it matter? Everyone _fears_ me, Kimikins, but you don't have to! Because, you see, you're not _out there_, where all the schemers are. You're in _here_ with _me_, the Joker, where you'll be sa-_fuh_, my little Red Queen. Safe from the chaos of Gotham, the chaos the Batman is causing,"

"That's sick," I spat, "All those people are getting hurt because of your selfishness," I rose, stepping away from him quickly, "You're like a child making your hero play with you! That's what this is about, isn't it?" The Joker stood slowly, his face darkening, "All this _chaos_ and bullshit, it's all to draw him out so you can _be_ with him!" He struck me hard, his knuckles connecting with my temple. I saw stars and colors burst before my eyes. So much for turning over a new leaf,

"You're a bastard," I wheezed, the floor cool against my face. "A narcissistic _bastard_,"

"I'm sorry, _wha-tah?_" His voice, while feigning misunderstanding, held a dark and dangerous edge.

"Like one of those artists who want all the _fucking_ credit for an idea they had. _One_. _Little. Idea_," I hacked, my body shuddering with the force. I was ready to puke; "Yours just happens to include blowing Gotham sky high," The kick to my stomach forced the bread I had eaten out onto the floor.

"But can't you see?" He snarled, "I'm doing it all for you. I do everything for you," I didn't move, that dreaded feeling seeping back into me despite the physical pain.

No. I wouldn't let that happen. His arms scooped me up and he took me to the bathroom. He sat me on the counter like a small child and dug around for a clean washcloth. There was a wrinkle between his eyebrows, as if he was concentrating very hard,

"I thought I told you not to give me a reason to hit you," He muttered, taking off his gloves. The words came out before I even thought about what I was saying,

"I'm sorry," He paused before turning the sink on and wetting the cloth. The Joker was pensive as he rang the excess water and dabbed my face,

"Its fine," He finally said. I steeled myself enough to watch him. His eyes avoided mine and he concentrated on wiping my mouth and brow. Soon he was just tracing my features. The hair on the back of my neck rose and I shifted, sitting on my hands to prevent them from clenching into nervous fists. He tossed the cloth and settled his hands on either side of my thighs. I leaned back as he leaned in,

"What is it?" I asked uneasily,

"I just want to look at you all day," I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water before deciding to simply shut it. I nodded mutely. He chuckled humorlessly and pushed himself off. I slid down from the counter as he shook his head. He unbuttoned his clothes and I hastily left to let him undress in privacy. The Joker didn't seem to care if I saw him naked. I don't have a problem with nudity but the Joker will always be the Joker, dressed in the clothes I made him or his birthday suit, it doesn't matter. I cleaned up my puke with paper towels Lenny had brought earlier and stopped to stare at the roses on the ground. I picked them up and gently set them on the bedside table. I hesitated, clenching and unclenching my fists before turning around and walking back to the bathroom. The door was a jar, so I pushed it open. He had stripped all the clothes and left them indiscriminately on the floor and the counter. I stood in the doorway, hugging myself,

"Do you need help?" He looked over his shoulder. His brown eyes searched my posture before holding the washcloth out to me. I hesitantly stepped forward and took the warm rag. He continued to watch me from the corner of his eye, his head slightly turned as I washed his back, carefully tracing the scars and the outline of his muscles. There were black and purples stains along his right side and I gingerly touched them with my fingers. His lips tightened, but his face displayed no pain, "When did this happen?"

He shrugged and I pursed my lips in annoyance.

"They're probably cracked," I informed him, "I wouldn't move around too much if I were you. Do you have a cell phone?" He looked down at me appraisingly, "So I can call Lenny," I assured him hastily, "I'll get him to pick up some ACE bandages," He worked his mouth,

"Whatever you say, _mommy dearest_," I cringed, "It's in the left pocket," He gestured to the pants. I nodded, handing him back the washcloth. I wiped my hands on my jeans and dug around the purple and green fabrics. It was one of those pay as you go phones, the kind you always hear drug dealers use so the cops won't catch them. I didn't stop to hesitate as I called Lenny and placed my order. The Joker's eyes bored into my back.

---

Reviews are Love,

The Author.


End file.
